


A Painful Compliment

by ourdreamsrealized



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, Drama, F/M, Family, Fluff, Love, Loving Marriage, Marriage, Reader-Insert, Romance, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 01:44:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18378386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourdreamsrealized/pseuds/ourdreamsrealized
Summary: Thranduil requested you train with him, but never in his wildest dreams did he expect to be the cause of your pain.





	A Painful Compliment

**Author's Note:**

> Melethrilen = Sindarin for “my beloved” (fem.)  
> Melethronen = Sindarin for “my beloved” (masc.)  
> Meleth nín = Sindarin for “my love”  
> Sevog i veleth nîn = Sindarin for “you have my love” 
> 
> Posting stuff from my Tumblr. Enjoy!

You had been surprised when the Elven King requested your assistance in training.

Long ago, you had been known for your skill with a sword and your precision with an arrow, but you were a different person then, living a life that almost contrasted completely with the one you led in the present.

You were protected now, under the care of your king, and the last thing he wanted was your injury. A simple pin-prick from mending the prince’s shirt, a short fall due to your own clumsiness in a dress of a length you were not accustomed to, even a cough set the Elven King off.

He would fret over you, which amused you in ways he could never imagine. 

In your younger years, you had sustained much worse, and he knew it; he had traced the many scars that made themselves home in your skin until he knew their exact locations upon your body. He could point to one and tell you its story because until he memorized the words you spoke, he would ask to hear the tale again and again.

His love for you was adorable, and you would be lying if you said you did not like how tightly he was wound around your finger. 

But it did not just go one way. 

He had you wrapped about his finger as well.

“You called for me?" 

The beautiful man before you turned, his teal eyes taking in your form.

It had been ages since you put on a pair of pants and tunic, and you had missed the freedom they gave. In these clothes and boots, you could move without worrying about tripping on fabric. 

"I did,” he walked towards you, taking your hand in his to bestow a kiss upon it.

“I was surprised to hear the details of your request. Do you mean to challenge me?” you teased, giving him a playful smile as he lifted his lips from your skin.

The beginnings of a smirk were evident upon his face, “I do, but only for your history and the graveness of the situation.”

His expression turned serious and rightfully so. In a few days time, he would lead an army to the Lonely Mountain to confront the Dwarves and their leader. Though the plan was to simply wait them out, your king would still take caution.

But you did not wish to think negative thoughts.

“I do not know if I have retained the abilities you seek in a sparring partner,” your grin grew, and when your face brightened, his could not resist.

“I doubt that,  _Melethrilen_  ,” he stepped back, his mouth curved into a smile of his own. “Have you your sword with you?”

You nodded, pulling the weapon from the sheath that hung from your waist.

“Good,” the elfen man smiled, revealing his own sword after reaching over his back to grab the hilt that just poked out behind his broad shoulder.

Within moments, you were both in fighting stances, and you could feel the excitement coursing through your veins. With it, came the familiarity of the situation.

Immediately, your mind went back to your days of battle, and you were analyzing your opponent with a critical eye, searching for any weakness in his form. You did remind yourself, however, that this was a friendly spar, and your primary goal was not to hurt the man before you.

You weren’t prepared to lose, though.

“Are you ready,  _Melethronen_?” you questioned, a giggle making its way passed your lips.

“Whenever you are.”

His statement told you that you would have to be the one to make the first move. You did not know if he hesitated because of his fear of any harm befalling you or if he simply wanted the advantage.

In the blink of an eye, you were in front of him, only to have your sword blocked by his own.

The clashes of metal against metal filled the air as blow after blow were given. 

To anyone with an untrained eye, the two of you were matched, but you knew better than that. You had not practiced in years, and your sparring companion was one who religiously trained each and every day of his life. Eventually, you would tire, and he would be named victor.

The thought was disappointing, to say the least, but until that moment, you would give him the fight of his life.

“You are very fast for someone who has not picked up a sword recently.”

The compliment made your heart soar with happiness. To have your king praise your skill was something you had always dreamed of. 

But alas, in your moment of pure bliss, you had forgotten the battle at hand, and the next attack sent you flying. A gasp left your lips as you hit the stone ground, head first.

“Y/N!”

You sat up, bringing your hand to the back of your head, to find your worried lover beside you. 

Through the pain, you gave him an assuring smile, “I apologize,  _Meleth nín_. I was distracted by your words, and my carelessness has caused you concern.”

“Do not say such things!” Thranduil snapped, dragging you into his arms and running his fingers through your hair. “The blame is mine to bear.”

He spent what felt like hours examining your head for any sign of injury. In the end, he came up with a small bump at the back of it which he apologized profusely for.

“I am fine,  _Melethronen_ ,” you kissed his cheek, placing your hand upon its twin. “I am a grown she-elf, and I could handle myself long before you came into my life.”

“But…”

“Shh…” you hushed him, stroking the delicate features of his pale face. “Tomorrow we will spar again, and I will be more cautious.”

“Again? Y/N, do you really think that I will allow–”

“Yes. You will because I am not some delicate flower meant to be kept in a vase for the rest of her life.”

Thranduil, knowing he could not win against you, let out a sigh, bringing his forehead to meet yours, “Alright, but should I hurt you again–”

“You did not hurt me. You could never hurt me. I know because you love me too much,” you grinned at him, and a smile tugged at his lips as he leaned in closer.

“Yes.  _Sevog i veleth nîn_ ,” he whispered against your mouth before claiming it as his own.


End file.
